Jon chuckled when I took him back, which, given his age, I knew was impossible. He wasn't really laughing, just like he wasn't really glaring. Still, it was cute.
I pretended he really liked me, though at this age he couldn't pick me out of a lineup. I cuddled him close all the way up the stairs, when Laura couldn't see.
The truth was, nights like this were the highlight of my life right now. I jumped whenever the Ant called. Bottom line? Baby Jon was the closest I was ever going to get to having a baby of my own. No tears, no sweat, no periods. . . no babies.
Ever.
Sinclair and I could do a lot-would do a lot, if he ever got over our little problem of the month. But we couldn't make our own babies.
Jess told me over and over not to be silly, there were only a zillion babies in the world who needed good homes, and Marc backed her up with horror stories of abuse from the E. R. She was right-they were both right-and I tried not to feel bad.
But at thirty, I hadn't thought I was forever turning my back on having my own babies. It was funny. . . I'd never seriously thought about having a baby. I just always assumed I would. And then I died. Isn't that the way it goes sometimes?
"It's dumb," I told Baby Jon, stripping him of the nasty diaper and setting it aside (I would later place it beneath the Ant's bed, where she'd go crazy trying to find it). "Dead people can't do lots of things. Walk, talk, have sex. Get married. Bitch. I'm lucky I can do anything, instead of just hanging out in a coffin and slowly turning into fertilizer. So what do I focus on? The good stuff? The cool powers? No, I piss and moan because Sinclair can't knock me up. Does that make sense? Does that sound like a person who's counting her blessings?"
"Fleh," Jon replied.
"Tell me. " I sprinkled him like salt on a roast, rubbed in the powder, and then put a new diaper on him. He sighed and waved his little arms, and I caught a tiny hand and kissed it. He promptly scratched me with his wolverine-like nails, but I didn't mind. Chapter 22
"I can't thank you enough for coming out," the Ant said. Again. To Laura.
"It was our pleasure, Mrs. Taylor. Your son is adorable. "
The Ant looked doubtfully at the monitor, which occasionally vibrated with Baby Jon's snores. "It's. . . it's nice of you to say so. I hope he wasn't any trouble. "
"He's darling!" Laura exclaimed, brushing spit-up off her shoulder.
"Yeah, a laugh a minute," I grumped. "And I'm busy tomorrow, so don't even think about it. "
"I'm free," Laura piped up.
"That's all right, girls. My fund-raiser was postponed, anyway. And Freddy can come over then, anyway. "
"Freddy?" I asked sharply. "Hooked-on-her-migraine-medication Freddy?"
"She's not hooked," the Ant, no stranger to substance abuse, insisted. "She just has a lot of migraines. "
"I don't care if she has a lot of brain tumors! She's not watching Baby Jon!"
"It's not up to you," the Ant snapped. Then, "Who?"
"When is your meeting?" Laura interjected quickly. "I'm sure we can work something out. "
The Ant puffed a strand of hair out of her face, which didn't move. "Laura, I appreciate that you are trying to do your best, but there's nothing to work out. I'll be the one to decide what's best for the baby. "
I got ready to pull her head off her shoulders and kick it up the stairs, a grisly surprise for my dad if he ever got back, when Laura asked, "Like you decided before?"
Whoa.
"What?" the Ant asked.
"What?" I warned, frozen in the act of reaching for the Ant's tiny head.
"The baby. From before. You decided what was best for her. . . that you couldn't take care of her. "
"Now?" I asked my sister, who had apparently gone insane when I wasn't looking. "You're picking now to do this?" Rotten timing: a genetic legacy poor Laura couldn't escape.
"I don't-I don't-"
I dropped my arms to my sides. The Ant had a whole lot more to worry about right now than beheading by stepdaughter.
"It was a good choice," Laura added, "if it was the one that was best for you. Still, do you ever wonder what happened to her? Do you ever think about her?"
"No," the Ant said, looking right into Laura's incredible blue eyes. "I never think of her. Just like when you aren't here, I never think of you. That was a long time ago, and I never think about how when you wear your hair pulled up, you look like my mother. The way she looked when she liked us more than the bottle. I never think about that, and I never think about her, and I never, ever, ever think about you. "
"Oh," Laura gulped, as I fought not to fall into the hall plant. She knew! She knew! And she never said anything! "I see. "
"You're a real nice girl, Laura. I was happy to meet you. I'm always happy when you can come by. But it's late, and it's time for you to get out of here. "
"Of-of course. "
"A heart-stopping pleasure," I said, following Laura out the door. "Just like always. You jackass. "
The Ant didn't say anything. Just stood in the doorway for a long time. Making sure the Driveway Killer didn't get us. Or making sure we really left. Chapter 23
We walked to my car. We got in. I started it up. We sat for a minute, waiting for the heater to kick in. (We weren't too worried about the Driveway Killer. ) We pulled out. We watched the Ant shut her front door. (She must have frozen her treadmilled ass right off, watching us leave. )
I couldn't stand it half a second longer and blurted, "I can't believe she knew. I can't believe she knew! She probably knew the minute she laid eyes on you, since you apparently look like her dead alcoholic mother. And she just. . . just let us come over and baby-sit! All those times! And you were at the baby shower! You brought her a fucking present from Tiffany's!"
"She is. . . a strong woman," Laura said faintly.
"She is a YAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGG-GGHHHHHHHH!"
"What? What?" Laura was twisting around in her seat, her hand on an invisible sword hilt. There was a sword there, but it only came out when Laura wanted it. And only she could touch it.
I looked at Laura, looked back up at my rearview mirror at the sallow blonde who was sitting in my backseat, and looked back at Laura. "Yuh-uh-I saw a squirrel. "
Laura was looking straight into the backseat, on the floor, around the car. "For goodness's sake, where? Behind your brake?"
The blonde stared at me, and I tried to pull my attention back to
France Avenue
. "It just. . . scared the hell out of me. Popping up like that. " I glared into the mirror. "Without warning. "
"Sorry," the blonde said.
"Well, don't scare me like that!" Laura snapped. "It's been a stressful enough evening. "
"Tell me about it," the blonde in the back said.
My heart was galloping along from the adrenaline rush (okay, adrenaline tickle, and "galloping" meant about ten beats a minute), which was stressful enough without having to watch Laura, the ghost in the back, and the road.
"Were you-did you-" I finally spit it out. "Were you planning this? Scratch that: how long have you been planning it?"
"I didn't really plan it," she confessed. "I carpe'd the diem. "
"Well, Laura, I hope you-hope you know that for the-for your mother, that was pretty good. I mean, she was almost nice. Which for her, was really nice. "
"Yes, I know. "
"Just give her time. She'll, uh. . . " Grow a soul? "And Laura. . . don't take this the wrong way or anything, but if you were planning on saying anything to our father. . . "
"Christ," the woman in the back said. "This is better than Days of Our Lives. "
"Shut up!"
"That's good advice," Laura said.
"No, uh. . . I mean, I wouldn't recommend. . . maybe not right now, anyway. . . "
"Don't worry," Laura said, tight-lipped. "I wasn't. "
"That's a load off my mind," the dead
woman in the back said. Chapter 24
"Well , it's been"-Upsetting. Tense. If I was alive, I'd have shit myself at least twice in the last hour-"really something. "
"You're not going in?" Laura asked, pausing outside the front door. None of us used any of the side doors. I didn't know why. Yes I did. Nobody wanted to get mistaken for a servant. Even the servants (the housekeepers, the plant lady, the gardener) used the front door.
"No, no. I'm going to stay out here"-in the freezing, subzero temperature and bitter wind-"and get some fresh air. " Even though I didn't breathe.
Laura's perfect forehead wrinkled. "Are you sure?"
"What," the ghost protested, "you're not going to let me in?"
"No, it's a real nice night. And I want to. . . look at the garden in the moonlight. "
"You've got to be shitting me," the ghost protested. "I've been stuck outside for more than a week, and you're not letting me come in?"
"On second thought," I said, "I will come in. "
"Let's hope you're a better hostess than driver," the dead woman bitched.
"You shut up. You're getting your way aren't you?"
"All I said was 'are you sure,' " Laura protested.
"Sorry, sorry. I'm pissed at the Ant on your behalf, and it's coming out at totally inappropriate times. "
"That cow," the ghost said. "She let her little yappy dog poop in my yard every damn week. She thought I wasn't looking. "
"Enough," I said.
"I agree," Laura almost snapped. "It's been a long night. "
"Honey, you don't know what the hell you're talking about. "
"Are you still planning on meeting up tomorrow?"
"Christmas shopping," Laura agreed, calming down before my eyes. At least her hair hadn't changed color, thank goodness. "I'll meet you here at six, all right?"
"I can't friggin' wait," the dead woman said.
"All right," I said. "Good night. "
I watched Laura drive off in her smiley-face yellow VW, which her too-good-to-be-true-but-they-really-were-good adoptive parents had saved up for three years to buy her.
I looked at the ghost, who was a couple inches shorter than me, with dark blond hair pulled back in a short ponytail. She was wearing a faded green Sea World sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows and black stretch pants. Socks. No shoes or coat. But of course, she wasn't cold.
"Why don't you come in?"
"Why don't I?" she agreed. "Thanks for the ride. I thought I was going to be stuck in Edina forever. Talk about hell. "
She walked through me into the house, which felt exactly like someone throwing a bucket of ice water in my face. "Dammit!" I gasped, lunging to shut the door.
"Sorry," she said smugly. Chapter 25
"You're back!" Jon cried.
"Jeez, let me get my coat off. And not now, okay?"
"Who's the hottie?" the ghost said, ogling. She passed her hand through his crotch, which, thankfully, he didn't notice.
"Stop that! It's against the law to do that even if you are dead. "
"What?" Jon asked.
"I'm getting my thrills wherever I can," the ghost explained, "so off my case. "
Tina had followed Jon into the entryway. "Good evening, Your Majesty. I was just on my way out. "
"How many weirdos live in this place?" the ghost asked. "It's like The Real World with Losers. "
"All those shows are like that," I told her. To Jon: "Seriously, not now. I've got some other errands and stuff to do before the sun comes up. "
"Oh, don't mind me," the ghost sniffed. "I'm sure you'd much rather be getting naked with Super Hottie. "
"I don't want to get naked with him, for the millionth time!"
I didn't realize it, but judging from the echoes in the entryway, I had screamed it.
"Whoa," Jon said, backing off.
"Excuse my boldness, Majesty, but do you have. . . a guest?"
"Dah-DAH-DAHHHHHHH," the ghost hummed dramatically.
I put a hand over my eyes. "God, yes. And she's really annoying. "
"Why don't you drop dead?" the ghost suggested.
"Too late," I snapped back. "See her, Tina? About this high. . . " I held my hand up to my nose. "Blond hair in a tacky ponytail, tacky sweatshirt, no shoes. "
"If I'd known I'd have to walk around in sweat socks for eternity," the ghost protested, "I'd have dressed up a little. "
"Ah, yes," Tina said, squinting and then brightening as the ghost slowly became visible to her. "Good evening, miss. My name is Tina; this is Elizabeth, The One. "
"Wait a minute. I go days and days and no one can see me, and now she says so and you can, too?"
"She is my queen," Tina said simply.
"The way it works is, I'm a vampire-"
"Get out!" the ghost gasped.
"I swear!"
"I just thought you were a freak, like that kid in the movie. I didn't know you were, like, dead already. "
"Well, I am, so let's not rub it in, okay?"
"Oh, I have to be sensitive to your feelings about being dead?"
"That's not what I meant," I said through gritted teeth. "And if you'll shut up a minute, I'll explain how Tina can see you. Not only am I a vampire, I'm sort of the boss of all of them. And one of the (dumb) rules is, if I see a ghost and tell a vampire to see the ghost, they can see the ghost. "
"How totally lame," she commented. "It sounds made up to me. "
"Well, it isn't," I snapped. "And you should be a lot nicer, in my opinion. "
"Well, nobody asked for your opinion, honey. It's nice to meet you," she told Tina. "Can you help me?"
"I'm supposed to help you. "
The ghost looked at me doubtfully. "Yeah, well, great. Looks like I've got all the help I need. "
"Why don't we have a seat in the parlor?" Tina suggested.
"Yeah," I agreed. "Why don't we? It's the first room on your right. " As we followed the ghost, I practically whispered to Tina, "Have you, uh, seen Sinclair tonight?"
"No," she murmured back. "I haven't seen him in two days. I did not wish to pry, but. . . "
"Ooooooh!" the ghost said loudly, phasing through the parlor wall. "More dramatic shenanigans. "
I sighed and followed her. I took the door, though.
"First things first," the ghost said. She didn't sit down, but we did, so we were sort of staring up at her, craning our necks. "I'm dead, right? I mean, I'm pretty sure. But I just wanted to double-check. "
"Yes," Tina said.
"We're sorry," I added. "For what it's worth, you were way too young. You look about my age. "
"Don't flatter yourself; I'm only twenty-six. I mean, I was twenty-six. " She sighed and looked through us. Literally. "I figured. The last thing I remember is this huge crash, this big light in my brain, and then all of a sudden I'm back in my neighborhood and nobody can see me. That damn dog of Antonia's pooped through me. "
"How can we help you?" Tina asked, all business.
"Sorry about your dying," I added.
"I'll tell you how I can help," she said. "My name is Cathie Robinson, and I'm-"
"The latest victim of the Driveway Killer," Tina said. She looked at me. "The Trib ran a story when her-ah-when your body was found, Mrs. Robinson. "
"In a parking lot, right?" she asked glumly. She sat down, phased through the couch, and disappeared into the floor. We heard a muffled "Shit!" and then she struggled back up into the parlor. "In a fucking parking lot!"
"Yes, I'm afraid so. "
"Sorry," I said again, because honestly, I couldn't think of a thing to say.
"That piece of shit! That little lowlife!"
"Do you remember anything about. . . dying?" Tina asked tactfully. . . as tactfully as such a thing could be asked, anyway. "About where you were taken? About the killer?"
"Honey?" Cathie ask
ed, fixing Tina with a sudden, piercing gaze. "I remember everything. "
Tina smiled. It was awful; you could practically see her drooling at the thought of getting her fangs into the Driveway Killer. "Then at last, you're having some luck, Mrs. Robinson. A friend of ours is on the task force. "
Cathie sighed and leaned back (carefully, so she wouldn't fall through the wall). "I knew there was a reason I was following you around," she told me.
"Tell us everything. We'll worry about the difficulties later. "
"What difficulties? I'll tell you where he is-where he took me, anyway-and you go get him!"
"Our friend-the one on the task force-not only doesn't know we're vampires, he certainly doesn't know we can speak with the dead. Sharing this information with him without compromising our safety will be difficult. "
"But we'll figure out a way," I hastily advised Cathie, who was starting to look superpissed. "Obviously, catching this guy is primo numero uno on our list. "
"Well, I should fucking well hope so!" she snapped. "I left a family, you know. And I was a good girl-I should be in heaven right this minute. The only reason I'm still here is to help you catch that scumshit, that piece of shit jerkoff, that assface. "
I was still admiring Cathie's rich and colorful vocabulary when I heard a familiar step in the hall.
"Tell Tina the whole story," I said hurriedly, leaping to my feet.
"Hey!" Cathie protested. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"
"It's much more important to tell Tina than me," I said, practically running to catch up to him. "She's, like, ten times smarter than me anyway. "
"That I figured out on my own. But what's more important than this?"
Dead people, I thought, darting into the entryway. They're the most selfish people on the planet.
"Sinclair!" I hollered. "Wait up!" Chapter 26
"Where-where are you going?"
"Out," he replied.
That much was obvious; he was wearing his black wool greatcoat and his Kenneth Cole shoes, which were shined to a high gloss. He was tapping his black leather gloves impatiently into his palm while he politely waited for me to Get On With It.
"Out-how come?"
"I need to feed, Elizabeth," he said simply.
I almost reeled at the implications of that. Since we'd been together, we sort of had an unwritten rule about feeding. . . we only did each other.
That was the trouble with unwritten rules. Anybody could rewrite them. . . or ignore them.
"But. . . don't you want to. . . with me?" I couldn't believe I was asking this; me, the one who was totally squicked out by blood-sharing. But the thought of him finding some pretty girl. . . dazzling her. . . taking from her. . . and she'd fall in love with him of course. . . and then what would he do? Keep her?